


Silver Moonlight

by Blackberreh



Series: For a light in seas of shadows [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Does that count as a tag if it's meant initially to actually kill someone, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sharingan Induced Frottage, Smut, in the way that they're both actually confused about what's going on, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 09:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17404517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackberreh/pseuds/Blackberreh
Summary: On the way home from a mission, Kakashi is followed by a mysterious masked shinobi.One with a Sharingan eye that matches his own, and who attacks with the intent to kill.





	Silver Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I had this started a while back and only now just got around to finishing it;;; I have a series planned! Sort of, at least. Might not be all sunshine and rainbows, but this whole scenario would not leave my head. It's likely gonna be filled with angsty, maybe kinda kinky smut.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 

 

He was being followed.

Kakashi was trying very hard not to collapse from sheer exhaustion, because right now, to do so would be a death sentence.

He was a mile away from Konoha when he paused, because it was either stop to face his follower, or bring them to the village. The latter would allow for reinforcements, but truthfully, Kakashi wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to make it at the breakneck pace he was currently pushing. He may have been exhausted from nearly a full week of combat and running, may be suffering from Chakra depletion, but he still had some fight left within him, and damned if he wasn’t going to go down without one.

The clearing he stopped in was bathed in moonlight. Grass swayed in the cool autumn breeze, tickling Kakashi’s toes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and he turned around, mask fixated on the darkness between the trees - sensing the chakra signature getting closer and closer. Kakashi unsheathed his sword, his hold on it deceptively relaxed, and waited.

It was quiet. The breeze rustled his hair and clothes, caressed his skin, and Kakashi breathed it in deep, calming himself. The moonlight washed everything into blue and grey and silver, and distantly Kakashi thought it made a pretty picture. A calming one.

And then his pursuer revealed themselves. A flash of colour, within the dark. A glint of red and an orange mask decorated with black swirls, seemingly floating within the black, until they stepped out into the clearing to join Kakashi, revealing a body dressed in pitch black.

From what Kakashi could see, they were unarmed. But any shinobi worth their salt knew that being unarmed meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Being ANBU, he knew that more than anyone. His Sharingan studied the figure intently, capable of seeing much more than his regular eye in this dim moonlight, but it came up with nothing.

The figure just stood there, watching him. Kakashi hadn’t moved an inch, either, merely watched the figure right back. This was definitely a shinobi, from what he could see and sense, but little else could be discerned. He had no idea what they were doing, following him, but if it was to attack then Kakashi was prepared.

They watched each other for what felt like a long time. Kakashi didn’t say anything, just gripped his tanto and waited for the other to make the first move. And move they did.

They were fast, but so was Kakashi. The previously unarmed shinobi darted forwards and Kakashi noticed a shine of metal from a kunai. He was able to read and predict their movement, but only just, dodging out of the way in time and swiping with his blade, aiming for the masked shinobi’s side.

It phased right through.

Kakashi didn’t stumble, though it was a very near thing. He whirled around just in time to dodge another lunge and kicked out with a foot, thinking to take out the back of one of their knees, but again - it phased through, and Kakashi’s balance tipped, creating an opening that the masked shinobi took. Kakashi fell, but he rolled with it, using the momentum to create some distance between the two of them that was quickly closed once again.

Kakashi was so tired. His legs trembled beneath him as he rose to his feet, before he got them under control. Exhaustion weighed him down, and it was only sheer luck - and the Sharingan that was a constant drain on his depleted chakra reserves - that allowed him to dodge and parry the kunai. This time, his attack didn’t phase through, perhaps because the masked shinobi hadn’t thought he was capable of landing the hit that he did. The kunai went flying, falling to the grass below.

But that didn’t stop the masked shinobi. Not even for a second. A hand latched onto Kakashi’s wrist and twisted in a way that had his fingers going numb, causing the tanto to drop to the ground, and Kakashi moved - fast as lightning, despite his physical state - his hands enclosed around a kunai and he whipped it out, slashing for the shinobi’s neck -

It passed through harmlessly, and Kakashi felt a spike of dread within the pit of his stomach. He looked at the mask, his own porcelain one almost scraping against the shinobi’s orange one, and then he was pushed roughly up against a tree, an armoured forearm pressed against his throat and crushing his airway, the shinobi’s other hand circling Kakashi’s wrist, holding the kunai away from him.

Kakashi was very thoroughly pinned, and rapidly losing air.

His mind raced. This was ridiculous - he was an ANBU, a Captain within its ranks, had been in more life and death situations in his nineteen years of life than half of the ninja within Konoha,  and here he was, weak as a kitten from a week of constant battle and chakra exhaustion, his vision steadily blackening around the edged as he struggled to breathe-

_I’m sorry Rin. Obito…_

Weakly, Kakashi tried to grip the shinobi’s arm, his fingers passing harmlessly though nothing as his body shuddered and tried to draw in air, and through the mask, he could see a glint of red within the dark eyehole of that orange mask. A glint of red that Kakashi’s Sharingan latched onto, and it was familiar and caused his heart to thud in his chest and his stomach to drop, because this shinobi had a Sharingan like himself.

And Kakashi found that he couldn’t look away.

His vision blackened further. He stared at that eye, watching the pinwheel of what could only be a Mangekyou Sharingan swirl languidly around in a pool of bright, blood red, and Kakashi felt an odd rushing sensation. His hand flailed, before finally, _finally_ finding purchase on the shinobi’s outer robe, his gloved fingers twisting into the material and tugging weakly. The rushing sensation grew more intense, an odd dizziness filling his mind, but that could have just been the lack of oxygen. The sharingan spun and spun in lazy circles, locked on Kakashi’s own, and abruptly, the arm pressing against his throat eased.

Just a little. Just enough to suck in air. Kakashi wheezed in and out, his chest heaving as the dizziness, the light headedness grew, and he still found he couldn’t look away, because that eye had him pinned and the more he stared the more he felt like his body was beginning to float.

 _Genjutsu…_ his mind supplied, but quickly dismissed it because this wasn’t a genjutsu, he couldn’t see or feel anything that would suggest a genjutsu was being used, and then he felt such a sudden spike of sheer _hatred_ , the force of it so powerful it took his breath away, like the shinobi was once again choking the air out of him. Kakashi clutched the shinobi’s robe tighter, the kunai finally dropping from his other hand, and his own confusion and exhaustion and pain and emotions that he’d shoved deep within the recesses of his mind because they had no business to exist while he wore this mask came to the surface and mingled with that hatred. And that hatred hid other emotions within it, too - a pain so deep and intense that it rivalled his own, a regret that was like a sharp punch to the gut, a sense of sheer helplessness that Kakashi thought was maybe his own as well.

The swirling pinwheel picked up speed. Kakashi saw - somehow, like a reflection, like he was looking at himself - his own shift into the same shape and do the same.

The emotions were stifling. Choking. Kakashi’s eyes burned and prickled with tears that he hadn’t allowed himself to cry in such a long time that they felt foreign. He tried his best to push them back as he gasped and choked and just tried to _breathe_ through the onslaught. Faintly, through the haze, he could feel the other shinobi shaking, feel the fine tremor through the arm still pressed to his throat, and Kakashi realised then that the masked shinobi must be similarly affected by this odd surge of emotion as well.

Belatedly, he realised that their Sharingans must have, somehow, connected. He hadn’t the first clue how, or why, but there was something that edged on familiar there that Kakashi couldn’t even begin to inspect, because suddenly, the emotion bled away into something different.

Something equally as stifling and overpowering, but this time it was hot, _burning_ , a feeling that spread through his weakened limbs and turned them into jelly and settled like heavy, liquid fire in his gut. Kakashi gasped for air, a strangled noise escaping his mouth, and his ANBU mask clacked against the shinobi’s orange one as they bowed their head, letting out a similar rough noise that had the fire igniting hotter and brighter in his belly.

 _Oh_ , Kakashi thought, and the mystery shinobi pressed their body flush to Kakashi’s own in a way that had every single one of his nerves lighting up. It was a hot, rough slide, the weight hard and perfect against him, and Kakashi could feel his cock swelling, hardening, felt another pressed against his, and his body acted on its own, arching against that hard, hot wall of muscle, his thighs twitching weakly and spreading to better accommodate them.

And all the while, their Sharingans remained connected. Unblinking. Hypnotizing. All encompassing. _Devouring._

Through the rush of the heat and the hate and the desire that was very quickly strangling all else, Kakashi could very vaguely make out confusion, not his own but one that mirrored his own, and the small part of his mind that was left for coherent thought was glad to know he wasn’t the only one very fucking confused about this turn of events.

But that coherent part of his mind was very quickly stifled under the heat of lust that infected his very being.

The hand still gripping his wrist dropped to clutch at Kakashi’s side. Kakashi’s arm flailed for a moment, confused at the loss of that anchor, before he reached out - into the hood the shinobi wore, dislodging it in the process, and gripped the back of their neck, tangling with the long, thick strands of black hair that spilled out from the falling hood.

They ground against each other, Kakashi’s thighs now wrapped firmly around the mystery shinobi’s hips, his body held up against the tree, that arm still against his throat, restricting his airway and making it harder and harder to breath once again, but that just added to the heat and delirium that was now infecting Kakashi’s mind. The shinobi’s other hand moved from his side to his thigh and gripped it, hard. The fire stoked, intensifying with every rolling thrust and grind, every pant he could hear from behind the shinobi’s orange mask, every slight increase of the pressure against his throat. There was a desire to hurt beneath the lust, to kill, but it wasn’t enough to alarm Kakashi.

He was too lost in the motions, the liquid heat in his belly, the tingling pleasure along his nerves. The sensation that built and built within him, his blood pounding in his ears, his vision blackening as he struggled to draw in more and more breath, and then -

It crested over, and Kakashi felt like he was falling and there was no ground in sight. His body arched up from the tree and a ragged, broken noise escaped his throat, akin to that of a wounded animal, his hands scrabbled for purchase on the shinobi’s robes as his body trembled and fell apart. There was a rushing in his ears, and over that he heard a soft gasp.

And then he was promptly dropped.

Kakashi hit the ground with a pained grunt, his body shivering in the aftermath of the orgasm that left him weak - another thing on top of the exhaustion and the chakra depletion. He breathed in harsh, ragged breaths, trying to get air into his burning lungs, and he felt more than heard the looming presence above him step back.

Clutching his throat, fingers pressed against the tender skin that was going to very likely bruise, Kakashi looked up.

The masked shinobi was watching him, head cocked ever so slightly to the side. He appeared to be taking quick, shallow breaths, telling Kakashi that he was similarly affected from this encounter - and Kakashi wondered if he had intended for this to happen.

… No, he decided after a moment’s thought. No, he’d been attacking to kill. So something had changed during the fight, something…

His eyes met a flash of red. Sharingan. Another stab of lust jerked through Kakashi and he let out a strangled noise, though it was quickly overcome by something else. Confusion. Panic. Guilt. Rage.

Then suddenly, the shinobi was gone.

Kakashi remained sitting there for a long time after that. His mind was a wash of white noise, his limbs heavy and unwilling to cooperate, and it was only when he felt the nearby chakra signatures of a Konoha patrol unit that he managed to moving once again. It would be an embarrassment to be caught like this - slumped against a tree, reeking of blood and sex - and the thought sent a hot flash of shame and lust through him.

He shoved such thoughts deep into the back of his mind and got to his feet. He had to complete the mission. To make it home. That… came first.

 

* * *

 

Making it back to the village, the debriefing, brushing off fellow ANBU members greetings - it passed in a blur. He recalled Tenzo stopping him, sounding happy that Kakashi was back, and Kakashi had said… something in return. He couldn't remember. It was only as Kakashi stood in the small, cramped shower of his shitty little apartment that he registered that everything that happened _actually_ happened.

He staggered out of the shower on shaking legs, reddened skin a motley canvas of blackening bruises, and came to a stop before the steamed over mirror. A swipe of his hand created a warped clarity, and Kakashi stared.

His throat was a mass of black and purple. The shinobi really had done a number on him - he'd almost crushed Kakashi's windpipe. He raised a tentative hand to the skin and prodded it gently, sucking in a harsh breath at the pain, and he bit down on his lip at another sudden flare of desire. Where… where did that keep coming from?

He hadn't made mention of the shinobi in his report. His throat had hurt during the verbal debriefing, but it hadn't registered that he should make mention of what had happened. A shinobi that could not be touched by a physical attack. A shinobi with a Sharingan. A shinobi that attacked first without any warning, that escaped undetected.

A clear enemy, if there was one. A threat to the village.

Yet… Kakashi hadn't said anything. He should have. But he hadn't.

Kakashi pressed his fingers harder to the bruise, and swallowed with difficulty. He opened his scarred eyelid, heedless of the drain on his depleted reserves, and memorized his reflection in the mirror. Face pale and drawn, dark circles under his eyes, mouth set in a grim line - neck a band of bruised purple flesh.

That lust… that _hatred._ That chakra, the lilt of the faint moans he'd heard. The the rage and the want and the confusion that was so powerful it had sucked Kakashi right in and he hadn't been able to stop it. Had been utterly helpless.

All of that negative emotion, solely directed onto him, a pool of bloody crimson so deep and hypnotising and powerful and terrifying and - and -

_Familiar._

Kakashi closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the mirror. Perhaps it was just his brain applying the feeling of familiarity to someone and something that truly only bore some similarities. The brain was a funny thing, did all sorts of odd stuff in the face of stress and trauma. It would make sense for his brain to take in all that had happened, all that he'd seen, and apply all those familiarities onto a masked, identity-less figure.

Even if it felt _wrong_ . Even if it just _couldn't be possible_.

Because there was no way that masked shinobi could be _Him._

Obito was dead. Crushed and abandoned, left to die alone in enemy territory. And Kakashi didn't want to think about that, to linger in the guilt of what was the loss of someone who could have - who _had_ \- meant _so much_ if Kakashi had just given him a chance. If he'd just taken that extended hand instead of being lost in his own head and caught up in stupid _rules._ Obito was the first loss of many to come, only mirrored by Rin’s demise -

_Rin._

Slowly, Kakashi lowered himself to the ground. The tile was cool beneath his bruised, heated flesh, and nausea curled in his gut as his mind whirled in painful circles.

That rage. That hatred. Directed at him. So potent and overpowering, so, so…

_Deserved._

Kakashi's breathing picked up, coming in shorter and shorter frantic gasps. His head spun and he clutched at his hair in an attempt to get it to just _stop_ and clenched his eyes shut. He tried to tell himself that he was just being _ridiculous_ . That there was no way that the mystery shinobi he fought, the one that pinned him against a tree and almost choked the life out of him and ground up against them in a haze of confused lust until they both reached completion was... _was Obito_

But no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that, his brain began to fixate on those similarities. The same eye. The sound of his voice. His chakra. That anger, the same kind that Kakashi held _towards himself_ . Fuck, now that he'd latched onto it, even the way the shinobi had _moved_ had been familiar.

He wasn't reaching. He wasn't seeing things that weren't really there, was he?

_Obito… you can't be alive… can you…?_

It wasn't possible. _It couldn't be._

But no matter how those words repeated themselves over and over in his mind, a heady, _desperate_ hope welled in his chest. Because… because despite everything…

_Obito was alive!_

A sick feeling of elation and hope at the thought was overpowering. He shouldn't think like that, shouldn't jump to conclusions, but-

_But-_

A giddy laugh escaped him, the sound loud and echoing and hysterical in the small, steamy bathroom. The sound came again, his breath hitched, and it ended in a sob as his eyes burned.

Obito could be alive.

_Alive._

**Author's Note:**

> Man the art I did for this is kinda old and done in an experimental style, but it was fun to do! http://blackberreh-art.tumblr.com/post/180875052726/silver-moonlight-the-clearing-he-stopped-in-was


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